


right?

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel
Genre: Collars, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Humiliation, Leashes, M/M, Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 08:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15602706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: The Grandmaster asks a simple question.





	right?

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “You love me, right?” - Frostmaster

Loki shifts his position against the floor, his form settled carefully between the Grandmaster’s knees. His cheek is pressed against the Grandmaster’s thigh, and he can feel the warm heat of the muscle beneath his skin, feel the beat of the Grandmaster’s heart. The Grandmaster has his right hand playing delicately through the thick, wavy locks of Loki’s hair, and his left hand winds its way around the chain that tethers Loki’s collar to the Grandmaster’s throne. 

Loki does his best not to sulk, not to betray the mulish expression on his face, and he hides that as best he can against the Grandmaster’s knee, facing away from him. Despite himself, despite his sickening distaste at the vulnerability of position, all of Loki’s flesh bared to the room at large, Loki–

He  _likes_  the sweetness of the Grandmaster’s touch, so gentle where it drags its way over his scalp, soothes him. Loki is weak, at the end of all, Loki is  _weak_ –

“Honey,” the Grandmaster murmurs, and he pulls hard on the chain, forcing Loki to lean up and look at him. Loki chokes out a nose, grasping at the loose trousers of the Grandmaster’s robe, and he meets the Grandmaster’s gaze. It’s intent, the golden shine of his eyes focused on Loki’s face, and Loki shivers as the Grandmaster continues, “You– You love me, right?”

Loki stares at him.

There are marks all over Loki’s neck and his chest, bites and bruises sucked into the flesh, and Loki’s thighs  _ache_ , ache from being bent back over every surface in sight for days on end. The Grandmaster has been feeling, in the past week,  _frisky_  (as he calls it), and Loki’s body is a mess of a thousand little aches and twinges of pain.

“Lo-Lo?” This is a trick, somehow. Loki knows not how, knows not what precisely this game is to lead to, but it’s– A trick. What is Loki to say? Say  _yes_ , give into the Grandmaster’s madness, tell the most ridiculous lie he’s ever told, or…

“No,” Loki says. The Grandmaster chuckles softly, and he drags harder on the chain. Loki lets out a soft grunt of pain, dragged up off his knees and forced to lean into the Grandmaster’s mouth, letting the other man kiss him soundly, so roughly Loki feels he will  _bruise_ –

“See, that’s– that’s  _good_ , baby. Already learning not to, mmm, not to lie to Daddy. But I tell ya, you’re– You’re  _gonna_.”

“I’m going to learn to lie to Daddy?” Loki repeats, dryly. The Grandmaster frowns at him, and Loki’s lips twitch, ignoring the fear that bursts in his chest - he oughtn’t sass, oughtn’t… “You really think that? That I’ll  _love_  you?”

“Sure, baby,” the Grandmaster murmurs softly, and then he leans in, dragging his lips over Loki’s ear. “What… What other choice do you have?” Loki swallows. and he sinks slowly back between the Grandmaster’s knees as he loosens his grip on the chain.

Norns. 

He can’t  _possibly_  be right. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up on Tumblr](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.


End file.
